Sherlockian Drabbles
by Luna Moriarty
Summary: A series of random drabbles based on random adjectives. Read the Author's note at the start for more detail. If you want me to do something (an adjective or pairing or just any character) then just ask and I'll try my best.
1. Chapter 1

**AN: So, I'm using a random adjective generator to give me a prompt word for each chapter in this NO CHAPTERS ARE RELATED. .They'll probably all be really short... Will also probably end up with lots of pairings and characters from lots of different time periods etc. I'll try and be original. Anyyywayyyyy...**

Mysterious.

Mycroft Holmes had always been a mystery to Sherlock. Despite him being his older brother Sherlock never understood him. When Sherlock was six, Mycroft declared a strong interest in politics, at the time, Sherlock was still set on being a pirate and so he thought Mycroft's interest in the very thing pirates hated most was a mystery. As a teenager, Sherlock didn't really understand anybody very well, it was when he was about thirteen he learned to deduce all he wanted to know about people. Mycroft, again, was a mystery to him, there were some things he saw about Mycroft, of course he saw them, he saw everything, but he couldn't explain them. For example, why Mycroft always insisted on carrying an umbrella, even today Sherlock couldn't tell you why he does this. Sherlock didn't like not being able to understand Mycroft, for despite him being a detective, he hated mysteries. Sherlock's definition of a mystery is very different from that of a normal person. What most people would find to be a complete unsolvable mystery, Sherlock Holmes would find to be child's play. However Mycroft, who most people saw as a snooty stuck up politician, Sherlock saw as a complete and utter unsolvable mystery.

**((Oh, and if you have an adjective you want doing, just let me know, I'll try and do it if it's not too hard, also, if you want me to try and write a particular pairing with your adjective, let me know for that too, I'll give anything a go.))**


	2. Chapter 2

Subdued.

Sebastian Moran knew everything about his boss, he'd been living with him long enough to be able to judge his moods by how he sat, or spoke, or walked. So when he came home from a job to find his boss sitting curled up in a ball in one of the arm chairs he knew something was up. He didn't say anything outright, that wasn't the way to handle a subdued criminal, no, he gently picked Jim up and sat down on the sofa with him. He stroked the smaller man's hair gently, and whispered,

"What's up Jimmy?" Jim stayed quiet, uh oh, Seb thought, he was in one of his Richard moods. After Jim had 'shot himself' on the roof of barts and woken up in hospital to find that he'd lost half his memories he kept going quiet. The hospital had told him he was called Richard Brook, of course they had, he'd deleted Jim Moriarty from existence, and now, occasionally he went quiet, subdued. This usually meant that more memories were coming back. Sometimes the memories were good ones, when the good ones came back he wasn't quiet long. When he came out of the quietness for the good ones he'd usually be happy, be cute and lovey dovey with Seb, that kind of thing. But when he finally came out of the quietness for the bad ones...Well, let's just say that it usually ended up with either half of London being blown up, or Seb having to forcibly stop him, sometimes by literally knocking him out, from doing anything stupid.

"Good or bad?" Seb whispered,

"B-bad..." Jim replied quietly. At least he was talking, Seb thought. Sebastian held his boss close, gently kissing his forehead. "It's OK, Jimmy, I'm here. It's OK." Jim sat up slowly, blinking. There was one other reaction to his 'Richard Moods'. Bursting into uncontrollable sobs, which is what the consulting criminal did now. As he sobbed Seb held him close. This was why Jim Moriarty had picked Sebastian Moran to be his right hand man, he was, admittedly the best shot in London, which did help, but underneath the hard shell, there was a caring, loving man that would do anything for Jim, that would hold him while he cried himself to sleep.


	3. Chapter 3

Stereotyped.

Molly Hooper. Sweet. Kitten loving. Innocent. Right? That's what she was, I mean, look at the way she dresses and blushes and acts. Wrong. Just because she owns a kitten and acts like a mouse and dresses either like an old lady or a young child doesn't mean that she's sweet and innocent. In fact, Molly Hooper was the opposite of sweet and innocent, all thanks to one man. Jim Moriarty. Jim was the first to see her fire, in fact, he was also the first to set her free. They met a university, Jim was doing a course in IT at the same place Molly was doing a course in medicine, specialising in dead bodies. It was pure chance that they'd met, they had both been invited to a party by a mutual friend, neither of them really enjoyed parties so they chatted. Jim didn't understand why someone who seemed so innocent and sweet would have such a fascination with dead bodies and Molly didn't understand why someone so totally gorgeous and perfect would submerge himself in anything as nerdy as computers. They started to date and soon, Molly found why Jim needed computers. He was going to rule the world one day, and he had to be able to crack codes and the like. They'd been dating for a few years, and both of their university courses were coming to an end when Jim said to Molly,

"I want you to help me rule the world Molls..."

"What do you mean?"

"You're as good at this stuff as me, you're a born bad girl." she blushed at this,

"I'm not a bad girl. I can't kill people..." Jim just laughed,

"Molls, it's me, you don't have to pretend. I can see what you really are." She looked into his eyes and nodded. Jim grinned and kissed her. So before you judge Molly Hooper, or anyone, on their appearance, or the way they act, make sure you look beneath that, you never know, you might find yourself a consulting criminal's queen.


	4. Chapter 4

Gentle.

**((AN: This wasn't randomly generated, this was a kind of prompt from my lovely friend and loyal sniper You Should See Me With A Bafta )) **

When you're married to an alcoholic, there's one thing you have to be. Gentle. Well, that's what it's like living with Harry. If I'm not gentle with her, she can get...uh...violent. And then all hell breaks loose. Luckily, neither of us are particularly strong and the worst injury we've had so far was Harry breaking her nose. Well...I say her breaking it...I may have punched her. But despite all the bad times, when I'm gentle with her, she can be the most amazing, loving partner, even when she is drunk, and I honestly do love her to bits. In the end, all the fights and bad times are cancelled out by the kisses and good times. Despite what most people believe about my Harry, she's a beautiful person deep down and she only drinks because she feels there's nothing else for her. I wish I could help, god knows I've tried, but she's past help. So all I can do is help her with the hangovers, and make sure she doesn't do anything she'll regret. If Harry was anyone else, she would be well and truly broken by now, most people wouldn't be able to cope with what she has to cope with, but not my Harry. My Harry is strong. And she's mine. For always, for ever.


	5. Chapter 5

Confusing.

**((AN: this was another prompt from the amazing You Should See Me With A Bafta)) **

I prided myself on not getting confused. I was The Woman. The Woman who brought a whole nation to its knees. Nothing confused me. Except my Kate. She was beautiful; truly beautiful. Yet, as far as I knew, she had never had a boyfriend, or a girlfriend. OK so, she admired me, possibly loved me, and occasionally I...well. I think you know what I mean. But everybody admired me, every single one of my clients, whom Kate never once asked to share, but they all also had other people too. When Kate first came to me, she was only, what, seventeen, eighteen. At that time, I knew she needed looking after, so I looked after her. But, after a year or so of me doting on her, like a mother on a child, she told me that she didn't need looking after, she could handle it, as long as I'd let her stay and be my PA. Of course, I agreed. But I was confused. Why would she want to stay? Why would she want nobody else? She knew that I didn't love her, that I couldn't love her, or anybody, but she still stayed. A lot of my clients did flirt with her but she never batted an eyelid, not even at the good looking ones. It made no sense. I never asked her. And now it's too late. To Kate, and the rest of the world, except my darling Sherlock, don't crush my dreams, he's my darling as far as I'm concerned, I am dead. And I will stay that way.

**((AN: These are getting shorrrrttterrrrrr)) **


	6. Chapter 6

Damaged.

After the fall, Molly hated being with John. She hated how damaged he seemed. He barely spoke, never smiled and often forgot to do ordinary tasks properly, like put his shoes and socks on, or do his shirt up right. He just didn't care now Sherlock was "gone" and it tore Molly apart, knowing that he wasn't gone, but that only Molly could know. She hated that she could put an end to his suffering, she could give his life a purpose again, even if it was only for a few minutes before they were both shot dead by Moriarty's snipers and then Sherlock would be shot too. Molly had spent many hours considering it, considering if it would be worse sacrificing herself and Sherlock for a few minutes of happiness for John. It wasn't fair on him, he'd done nothing to deserve this and now he was damaged and it was partially her fault. The only thing that stopped Molly from telling him, was that if, she knew it was unlikely, but if there was an afterlife, and she met Sherlock and John there, they'd both hate her for ending their lives. Sherlock would tell her he had a plan to kill all of Moriarty's men, then he'd tell John himself. Then they would be angry with her and never talk to her. And she'd still be alone. Like she was now. Alone with the damaged goods that once were John Watson. She hated Sherlock Holmes at times, he lived with her, on and off, and he was slowly but surely taking over her life. She got home after a particularly stressful meeting with John once to find her cat lying supposedly dead with Sherlock leaning over him with a needle and a small grin on his face. She screamed and he said,

"It's OK, I'm bringing him back." Before sticking the needle into him. Molly fainted. She came round lying in the same position she'd been in when she passed out, he hadn't even moved her. Luckily, Toby was alive still. She had no idea how John had coped, and why he missed the lunatic so much, but she couldn't ask. She could never ask. Because Sherlock was her secret, and she had to keep it.


	7. Chapter 7

Direct.

"I love you." Sherlock blurted out one day, about three months after he had returned from the fall. John blinked. "You...um..." Well, that was one way of telling your best friend you loved them. Interesting that, how direct Sherlock could be. John just stared, making random odd noises for a few seconds more before managing a simple,

"I love you too." And then Sherlock walked out of the flat, nodding to himself. John made himself a cup of tea, at least that's what he'd tell you if you asked what it was, let's just say that it was rather a bit stronger than your usual brew, and sat down in his favourite armchair.

"What the hell just happened?" he said, before realising he was addressing the skull and that that was a little bit weird. He quickly shut up. Only Sherlock Holmes spoke to skulls.

About half an hour later Sherlock returned,

"It was an experiment." He stated, John's face fell, "I wanted to know how you'd react." Sherlock watched John's face carefully as the army doctor nearly burst into tears. Sherlock smirked,

"It's not goddamned funny!" John yelled.

"You really do love me..." Sherlock replied, "That was the experiment, telling you I didn't love you. I needed to know that you meant it when you said you loved me too and you didn't do it out of politeness. I love you John Watson." And the tall man grabbed the smaller man and planted a firm kiss on his lips.

**((sorry this was so short!)) **


	8. Chapter 8

Unable.

Unable to love, unable to care, unable to want anything even slightly romantic. That was the life of Jim Moriarty before he met Sherlock Holmes. When he first found out about him, Sherlock became an obsession. Jim wouldn't talk about anybody else, he often spent hours alone in his office pinning up photographs and connecting them all to Sherlock. He also spent days on end locked in a room reading through boxes and boxes of cases Sherlock Holmes had solved. He pushed everybody else away and immersed himself in his obsession. He always had a tab open on his laptop on Sherlock's blog, and one on Dr Watson's blog, and he constantly refreshed them, determined to be the first to read each new post. His closer employees, like Sebastian, started to get worried. It wasn't healthy for a man to spend so much time obsessing over another man. It wasn't that Sebastian was homophobic, in fact he was quite the opposite, but it just wasn't right that Jim spent quite so much time with his pictures of Sherlock. He was acting like a teenage girl over some dodgy pop star. What Sebastian didn't tell anybody, was that he was jealous as hell of Sherlock. Why did he get all Jim's attention? He didn't even care...or know Jim existed. Whereas Sebastian, he'd known Jim for years, he knew everything about the man, yet he got nothing. How was that fair? After Jim had first met Sherlock, when he was working in IT at St. Barts, Sebastian had had to put up with Jim retelling what had happened over and over and over until one time, he had enough. He threw back his chair and stormed out. It only took him half an hour or so to calm down and come back, and when he did, Jim had made him tea and prepared his favourite dinner. And while Sebastian knew he could never compare to Sherlock Holmes, he knew that only Sherlock Holmes could compare to him.

**((The idea in this random Drabble was for it to be Sheriarty... I ship Mormor too hard to not have a little bit of that in at the end though...)) **


	9. Chapter 9

Idiotic.

Dear Diary,

It hurt when Sherlock insulted me. Sally laughed, Greg laughed, even John laughed. He said I was an idiot...they always used to call me that at school. I'm not an idiot, Diary, I'm not! I'm clever! I can name 40 different types of dinosaur! I can make dinosaur cookies! I can even fit 10 dinosaur chicken nuggets in my mouth at once, I bet Sherlock couldn't do that! Why is he so mean to me? I've never done anything to him...Nothing really bad anyway...I mean, the odd practical joke, and the odd insult, but I've never called him idiotic. Well...I'd be stupid myself if I said he was stupid, oh, Diary, the truth is, I wish I was more like Sherlock. I wish I could solve any case and impress everyone. Maybe then my wife wouldn't hate me... Sherlock said she was with that History teacher again... ANDERSAUR NOTE TO SELF:ASK WIFE ABOUT HISTORY TEACHER.

Do you like the way I decorated that? I put little dinosaur stickers all around it, look. They're new, do you like them? Also, I've started calling myself Andersaur, obviously not in public...much..., but when I'm at home with you, dear Diary, I do. I bought a new plastic dinosaur yesterday, it was the last one in the shop and a little kid wanted it...so I fought him for it. See, that's not idiotic. That's clever, fight for what you want! I am clever! Anyway, I should go, Sally might be coming round later.

Love always,

Andersaur xxx

**((I hope this made you giggle, quite a lot of these have been quite angsty, so I thought I'd do something more lighthearted))**


	10. Chapter 10

Sparkly.

**((So I have no idea where I'm going to go with this, but one of my school friends, the amazing Kim the Dalek, told me to do sparkly so, here you go… this is about to get weird…))**

I'd always liked sparkly things. Money, guns, jewellery. That kind of thing. They were all sparkly. My mum once told me that even as a baby I used to grab her wedding ring finger because I liked how sparkly the ring was. I suppose that was what made me a consulting criminal. I liked all things sparkly, so I wanted all things sparkly. Money. Well that was easy, make people pay me to do things. Guns, that was easy too, make people shoot people for other people. Jewellery, easy too, I could just steal it all. All in all, my job was perfect for me. After a while, it became less about the sparkly things, although I still can't resist a sparkly tie pin or pair of cufflinks, and more about getting rid of the boredom. Boredom. Boredom. Boredom. It's so….boring. I think it's possibly the worst feeling in the world, and I get it bad. When most people are bored, they can read a book, write a story, draw something, go for a walk, listen to music, whatever, and their boredom will be gone, not with me. I have tried all of those things, none of them _work_. The only way I can distract myself from the boredom is by plotting, making plans to kill people, planning heists, planning bank robberies, planning forgery, that kind of thing. But sometimes, even that doesn't work. When a plan just doesn't come to me I have to do _something _to stop me going insane. I used to sit in the middle of the floor and scribble, until Sebastian bought me marbles. To start with, they were sparkly! And they were incredibly hard to break, which was good. Now, when I am feeling stressed, or plans wouldn't come to me, I'd go to my marble room. It is a small box room at the back of our flat that only I am allowed in. It's where I keep my marbles. When I'm stressed I can roll them around the floor, spin them, throw them, whatever I want. And they never break, they always come spinning back, or spinning into other marbles. People say I'm crazy. I'm not. I'm just bored.

**((Ok, so the idea for marbles came in physics with You Should See Me With A Bafta, I was fiddling with the marbles we were using for some practical and she said I looked like Jim plotting. I haven't asked her if she minds me putting this in a fanfic but yeah, who caresssssssss. Sorry Moo if you do mind but I don't think you would… Anywhoooo, reviews are oxygennnn))**


	11. Chapter 11

Loveable.

**((This was a prompt from EmaWritesFanfics, so here you go, this one's for you…. Thank you also to everyone who reviewed, so yeah. GIANT THANK YOUS AND CUPCAKES FOR EVERYONEEEEE))**

Sebastian stepped into the flat he was going to be sharing with the Consulting Criminal for the first time and looked around himself slowly. He had been working for Jim for roughly three years. He'd started right at the bottom, gone on several "You aren't expected to come back from this one" jobs, survived all of them, and got himself slowly promoted to almost the top, thanks to his uncanny ability to stay alive against all odds. It had only taken him three years to achieve what most of Jim's employees never achieved, ever. Jim trusted him, more than anyone in the world. The two men knew everything about each other, and I mean everything. That was why Jim had invited Sebastian to move in with him, he hated being alone in his massive flat, he got scared.

Jim had forgotten Sebastian was coming, and he had freaked out just before he came. This was normal for Jim, he freaked out quite a lot, but this time had been particularly bad. He'd heard a noise, and had started to panic. To start with her tried to ignore it, to get on with his work, but he couldn't. He had gone into his bedroom and curled up on the bed, his head in his hands, sobbing. By the time Sebastian arrived, he was in a right state, his eyes puffy and red and his cheeks blotchy. Sebastian heard muffled sobs coming from Jim's room and he knocked cautiously before stepping inside. He froze for a second when he saw his boss, usually so calm and composed and dangerous, lying in a ball on the bed completely vulnerable and, well, he looked broken. In that moment, Sebastian knew that his presence in the flat would serve as quite a lot more than simply being at hand as soon as Jim needed him, he knew then that Jim was lonely and needed someone to love him, so he took his boss in his arms and rocked him until he stopped crying.

When he had cried all he could, Jim slowly stood up. He nodded his thanks to Sebastian and walked into his office. Sebastian sat on the bed for a little bit longer, thinking about how utterly loveable the consulting criminal could be and how, despite the fact he was the most dangerous man Sebastian had ever met, he was vulnerable.

Three hours later Jim walked into the living room where Sebastian was polishing his guns and wrapped his arms around his tall blonde companion,

"Thank you, for earlier, Sebastian. It…. uh….It meant a lot. Nobody's ever done that for me before…" Sebastian smiled happily,

"That's quite alright boss, a-"

"Jim…Not boss, you don't need to call me that anymore." Both Jim and Sebastian knew that this was the biggest honour Jim could possibly bestow on Sebastian. Sebastian grinned,

"Thank you, Jim." He said quietly as he turned round and pulled the small man into a kiss.

If you asked Sebastian for one word to describe his boss, he would say loveable, because even to this day, Jim Moriarty is the most caring and loveable partner Sebastian Moran has ever had.

**((OK, so I wasn't sure quite where I was going with this….I think it turned out OK though, it's a bit longer than all the others but hey. Anywhoooo, thank you for reading, you get freeeeeeeeeee…..um…..Free Jim Moriarty hugs if you do review!)) **


	12. Chapter 12

Separated.

**((This is a prompt from my amazing twitter friend Priscilla, I admit, I am a little nervous about writing something for her because she's so so so good at writing herself and...yeah. I hope this lives up to your expectations Prissy-Bus!)) **

Separated from the world. That's the way I liked it. That's the way it always would be with me, from now on. Well, that was the plan anyway. Never to love again. I think I should start from the beginning...

I was only sixteen when I first met Sebastian, I was just little Sherlock Holmes, the hermit. I spoke to very few people, other than to correct them, and I spent my free time correcting textbooks. Was I nerdy? God yes. Until Sebastian came along. He was a new boy in the class and god, he was gorgeous. I'd never really had feelings for anybody before, let alone a boy. It wasn't that my parents were homophobic, they just, never exactly encouraged it massively. But back to Sebastian, he had the most amazing eyes, bright bright blue, I don't really do cheesy similes so I'm not even going to try and think of one. And then there was his hair, that was what first made me look at him, it was blonde and styled in a sort of quiff. That confused me, firstly, quiffs were meant to look stupid, yet his really didn't. Secondly, how was it possible for it to stay up and so poofy? Even after we'd had PE and showered, it was still in an effortless quiff. How was that even possible? Anyway, he was in my class, and when I was sixteen I was with my class for most lessons. That was the first time that had been a good thing for me, I usually hated them all, but having Sebastian there somehow made it a lot better. We were sitting next to each other in most lessons, he actually made an effort to speak to me and we quickly became friends. Then more. I don't really know how it happened, just that it did. Within a term, we were a lot lot more than friends. A lot more. I loved him, I honest to god loved him. I hadn't told my parents, hadn't told anybody in fact, we preferred it that way. We were still together when it came to choosing to go to sixth form or college, it was a private school and we had a brilliant sixth form attached, however Sebastian didn't want to go. I never said anything at the time, but I was just a little disappointed. He knew how much my education meant to me and my family, even though I didn't really need it, and he was rich enough to come to sixth form with me, but he chose not to. For a few months, we managed. Our relationship stayed on, even though we were in different places. Until one day. He called me up, I still remember every word of it, however hard I try, I will never forget that phone call. It went like this,

"Hey, Sherlock? It's me, Seb."

"Oh, hey..."

"Listen, Sherlock, I don't love you. I never have. And...I'm seeing someone else." I remember at that point I stayed silent for a good minute, I should have been crying, I knew I should have. But I wasn't. Tears just wouldn't come. After a few minutes of silence, I said,

"What's his name?"

"Sherlock I hardly thi-"

"WHAT IS HIS GODDAMNED NAME, SEBASTIAN!?" by this point, it had started to sink in, I wasn't sad, not really, but I was angry. So so angry.

"Jim Moriarty." Sebastian whispered after a few moments of silence he said "Don't call me again." and hung up. That was the last I heard of the man. And from this day forth, I will be separated from the world. I will NOT be hurt in this way again.


	13. Chapter 13

Clueless.

**((Another prompt from the amazing Priscilla, so yay! I briefly touched on this idea in Subdued (AKA chapter 2, I think) But I thought I could expand on it a bit more here from Jim's POV...sooooooo...voila. Ooh, and I nearly forgot, I really like writing in 1st person, is that ok with all of you guys? I just find that if I don't write in 1st person I tend to really overdo the direct speech. Do you like it? Or should I try and go back to third?)) **

I woke up in the hospital and sat up, making a quick mental assessment of myself and my surroundings, I'm not quite sure why I did this, it just seemed the right thing to do. OK, both legs able to move. Check. Both arms and hands able to move. Check. Boy...parts...Check. Memories...uh...what memories? OK, that probably wasn't very good. Remembering nothing at all, that was bad. Very bad. And my head hurt, brilliant. Some kind of brain damage then. That's just brilliant isn't it. How the hell did I end up with brain damage? I sat up straighter as a rather attractive blonde nurse came in,

"Ah, hello Mr Brooke, I see you're awake. Welcome back!" she smiled charmingly and I attempted to smile back,

"Sorry, I don't remember an awful lot, who am I? And where am I?"

"Oh gosh, you're Richard Brooke, you're an actor for kids TV. You're in St Bartholomew's Hospital. A tall blonde man brought you in, he said you'd hit your head pretty hard." I nodded, Richard Brooke, I was an actor. Interesting. Very interesting.

"The tall blonde man? Did he say who he was?" I asked her,

"Why yes, he's called Sebastian. Sebastian...um...Moran I think. He comes in most days, often spends the night with you. Quite a lot of the nurses have a bit of a soft spot for him, he's quite a good looking bloke." She smiled slightly again. I frowned, why did the tall blonde man, Sebastian, care about me so much to stay by my bed most nights? Did he care or did he just like the attention from the nurses? As if on cue, a tall blonde man walked in, his face lit up when he saw I was awake and he ran to me and hugged me tightly. No. That wasn't right. I didn't know him. I screamed. He jumped backwards, clearly surprised, but he looked...hurt. And exhausted. I almost felt bad for him, but not quite. I didn't know who he was, and he'd hugged me? At a guess I'd say that perhaps we had been romantically involved? But...I don't remember being gay...I looked up at the pretty nurse as she whispered something to Sebastian. I watched as his face fell as quickly as it had lit up. He looked to me sadly and sat next to my bed. I turned my head to look at him and saw that he was quite close to tears.

"I'm sorry, uh...Sebastian..." He looked to me and whispered,

"It's OK, Ji-Richard." I frowned,

"Jim? Who's Jim?" The nurse had gone by now, I was starting to get a teensy bit scared again and I almost called out, but the slightly desperate look on Seb's face…. Wait….Seb? Since when was he Seb? Maybe I did know him….

"You're Jim," he whispered, "Richard is an alias, to make someone called Sherlock Holmes kill himself."

"The Virgin…" I muttered, wait, where did that come from? This was weird, bits were starting to come back. I swear it wasn't meant to come back that quickly,

"Yes! That's right! You're Jim Moriarty, consulting criminal. And I'm your right hand man….Sebastian Moran. Seb. 'bastian. Basher. Sebby-Bear on occasion." Each new nickname brought a new cascade of memories down on me. Then the feelings started, I remembered how much I loved the man sitting next to him, I remembered how perfect he was, I remembered how he looked after me multiple times. And then. Sherlock. Everything about him, about my game with him. About why I was in hospital.

"Sebby-webby?" Another nickname that I'd remembered all by myself, yeah, ok, too small a thing to be proud of, but I was, "Can you take me home? I…I don't like it here. And…lots of things are coming back….I don't like it…" Seb nodded and slowly scooped me out of the hospital bed, ignoring all the wires that were falling out of me, they were probably all useless anyway. I didn't need them, not now. I smiled happily as he somehow smuggled me out of the hospital. I knew it was going to be a long hard road, but I also knew that Sebastian would be there to help me every step of the way.

**((Thank you so much everyone for the support and lovely reviews, they mean a LOT! As always, I love it when people give me adjectives/pairings/characters to play around with. These chapters are starting to get longer again, touch wood it'll stay that way. I'm rambling...ah well. ooooh! And OMG THE ENDING OF MERLIN! OMGGGGGG GWEENNNNNNNNN MORGANNNNNAAAAAAAAA. Rambling again. Sorry, I think I might go now...Yeah...That's a good idea... PEACE OUT!)) **


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